


We're All Out of Time

by clairefraser



Category: Outlander (TV) RPF
Genre: Angst, Author is undecided, May be continued
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:27:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27520753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clairefraser/pseuds/clairefraser
Summary: All good things come to an end, and Sam prepares himself to cope with it.
Relationships: Caitriona Balfe/Sam Heughan
Comments: 18
Kudos: 46





	We're All Out of Time

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Don't Want an Ending by Sam Tsui.

Isolation.

It hadn't begun in March, when he found himself trapped far from home, in the company of strangers, with little to do but wait for time to pass by. No, his loneliness, feeling as though he was destined for a life of solitude and meaningless relationships, that had started last August.

His fate had been sealed then.

The finality of the moment hadn't hit him until he was sitting in that church, watching the love of his life exchange the most sacred of vows with another man. She'd said I do, radiating with happiness, and his heart shattered. There was no room for objections in the ceremony, and he wouldn't have done so, no matter how much his heart yearned to. When the priest uttered  _ "You may kiss the bride" _ , he had averted his gaze, clapping almost mechanically, a smile plastered on his face.

Throughout the entire engagement he had entertained the notion of declaring his love for her, asking her - no, begging her to choose him instead, to recognize the love he had for her, but the rational part of his mind had rebelled against it. He watched her with  _ him _ , saw how wrong they were for one another, how wrong it felt, and wondered if he was projecting his desires a bit too much. The days had flown by so quickly then, the ones before their relationship was forced to change forever.

She was a married woman; it didn't matter that he loved her more than anyone else could, that he would lay down his life and give her anything, everything, just to see her happy. She had found happiness, but not with him, and he had little choice but to pull away, to preserve the remnants of his broken heart. 

It was easier said than done, because she withdrew from him too. The playful banter and easy smiles remained, but she no longer leaned into his touch, and so he stopped touching her altogether. She ceased popping by his trailer, inviting him for a drink, so he didn't visit her's either. In the span of several months, the relationship they had built up over years had dissolved, morphed,  _ evolved _ , to the casual comradery that was so often seen between co-stars, not what they had before.

Not  _ special. _

He feels the loneliness now more than ever, trapped in his flat with nowhere to go, fingers itching to text or call her, ask her how she's been, check up on his favourite fat cat and stay  _ far _ away from the topic of her husband. Part of him wishes that he hadn't let her marriage change things, that he had held onto their friendship tighter, because he would rather live with heartbreak than without her in his life.

_ Hey, how are you? _ he tries, deleting the message before he can figure out the words that might come next.

His fingers hover over her contact details, resisting the urge to press  _ call _ . Once, his hands are shaking so hard his thumb accidentally brushes up against it, but he's able to hang-up before the first dial tone rings out. The sigh of relief he breathes out is bigger than ever, because he realised then and there that he's not ready to talk to her, has no idea what he would say when she picked up.

He knows she would pick up, even if she doesn't want to hear from him, because that's the kind of person she is, so kind and caring. Even if she had no desire to speak with him, she would answer and they would talk, for however long he wanted, because she always tried to give away every last bit of herself to others. 

But he worries, that hearing her voice for the first time in so long will weaken his defenses, will spur him to say something that will end their  _ friendship _ forever. He's scared of confessing his innermost thoughts and feelings to her, because she  _ can't  _ know. If they're going to survive to the end of this series, she must not  _ ever _ find out. 

He curses himself each time he mentions her in interviews, unable to help himself, hoping that she doesn't watch them, or doesn't see through to him if she does.  _ Desperate _ , is perhaps the perfect word to describe him in these moments, clinging to the only thing that makes him feel as though they're still connected. They don't speak, have no contact whatsoever, until a virtual thirty minute interview, where he's quite thankful Matt is present, because it makes things less personal, less awkward. 

His eyes linger over Cait the entire time. He's weak when it comes to her. She smiles, eyes crinkling in the corners and she looks so fucking happy that he forgets his own sadness for a while. But then it's over, her face replaced by a black rectangle, and he's alone once more. He closes his eyes and pictures it, sees her in her flat, the fresh blooms off to the side; they're her favourites, he knows because he sent the same arrangement to her once, years ago, for a birthday when they weren't quite familiar with one another yet. 

When the cameras are off, he spends his time alternating between working out and moping around his room, ruminating about how pathetic he's being. He remembers acting like this before, when he was fourteen, not forty, having been rejected by a girl in one of his classes at school. His parents had comforted him but shared a chuckle over his  _ misery _ and warned him that pursuing pretty women would end up with a lot more heartbreak for him. Just how right they had been about that.

All of his friends from high school, from university have settled down, gotten married, started families of their own, and he's still so utterly alone. He doesn't hate his life, in fact, there are so many parts about it that he loves; his career and philanthropy and the opportunities he's been given to see the world and partake in new experiences.  _ Lucky _ , so many would say, but he knows he would give it all up if it meant he could be with her.

If he could be the one to hold her hand as they walked down the streets, kiss her good morning and good night, every day for the rest of his life. It would be his honour to make her laugh uncontrollably, cheer her up after a hard day, hold her close when she needed comfort and listen to her secrets, hold them deep within his mind and give her all of himself. But he’s missed his chance, if there had ever been a chance to begin with. Each time he had considered broaching the topic, even back in the days where she belonged to no one but herself, she had shied away from him, letting him know in the kindest way possible that she was not interested, and had no intention of letting their friendship turn into something more. 

He knows he should just  _ move on, _ that it’s the logical, sensible thing to do. 

And he’s  _ tried _ . 

Tried so hard in his other relationships, to push all thoughts of her aside and commit himself to being with women who cared for him. By the end, it always feels like he’s betraying their love, betraying himself, living a lie that always comes to light. 

Perhaps it’s what he deserves. He’s truly lucked out on everything else in life, it’s only fair that there’s an aspect that he’s destined to fail in. 

_ Pathetic _ . 

It’s the only word to describe his current state, lying face down in bed, staining his covers with sweat, having collapsed there after returning home from a hike where he had pushed himself beyond his limits, his muscles burning in protest, almost limping by the time he returned home. He thinks he could just fall asleep like this, accidentally smothering himself in the process, because the alternative of getting up, taking a cold shower and trying to cook dinner for one sounds equally miserable. 

There are things he needs to do, things he has to look forward to, but none of them involve her, and perhaps that’s the most heartbreaking part of all. Not only have they drifted apart from one another, but their time together may soon be running out, especially if the show is not renewed after the following season. He’ll have no excuse to see her then, to hold her in his arms and allow himself to pretend, for just a moment that he lives in a world where she loves him back. 

It’s here, face plastered against a pillow, that his phone buzzes and has him sitting up in shock.

_ Her laugh. _

Back in the day, when he was more than half a decade younger and a little more hopeful about life in general, they had been messing around between takes and he had insisted on recording something to personalise her text tone with. She’d laughed at him, loud and deep-bellied, falling backwards onto the grass in hysterics and he had filmed her then; when they were just a couple of kids with little idea what the world had in store for them. 

He dives for his phone now, reaching desperately across to the bedside table where he had left it charging when he arrived home, and sees the lit up screen just beginning to dim. There’s a second of hesitation where his mind cycles through a dozen or so reasons she could possibly be contacting him for, starting from the most logical option that she's touching base about something work related to the insane notion that she might be thinking of him as he is thinking of her. He brushes  _ that _ thought away as he presses his thumb to the screen, closing his eyes and hearing the soft click that signals the device has been unlocked. 

There are dozens of unread messages, because for once he hasn't been glued to his phone, but hers is right at the top.

_ Caitríona Balfe _ .

He had changed her name in his contacts the day she broke the news to the cast and crew about her engagement, having enough sense to know that having her number stored as  _ The wife _ was no longer an appropriate joke between co-stars.

Never quite a joke for him really, more… wishful thinking, but inappropriate all the same.

His hand trembles as his thumb hovers over the unread message; the preview already giving him anxiety. It's too formal, so unlike the way she usually messages, but they've barely exchanged any in the past few months, so he supposes she could have changed in the time since then. 

_ Sam, _

_ It was a pleasure catching up with you during the Deadline event last week. I am glad to see that you've made it home in one piece, and hope you are doing well. I was wondering if you would be interested in meeting up sometime this week - there's a park near my flat - we could drop by and have a chat. It would be nice to get some fresh air for a change, but I completely understand if your schedule does not permit it. _

_ Hope to hear from you soon, _

_ Cait. _

There are thoughts, of which he has too much of, and there's breathing, of which he almost forgets about entirely. Excitement threatens to overwhelm him, but the discomfort he feels with the formality of her words cannot be shaken. He doesn't need to scroll up, to see their exchanges with one another in the past in order to see it. As put together, poised and well spoken a woman she is, Cait had always been sloppy when it came to texting. She had often mocked him for his overreliance on emojis and abbreviations, but her messages were ridden with spelling errors that went uncorrected by her phone. When she was drunk, they became a mish-mash of words and phrases that could very well be undecipherable by most.

He never failed to understand her.

But _this_ _message_ , formatted with correct punctuation, looks more like the email communication between the production team, or something he would send to his manager. It's as if someone had gone in and edited out all the errors, taken away all the bits that reminded him of _her_.

It feels  _ wrong. _

He doesn't know what to make of it, if there is a more sinister reason for her to suddenly reach out to him after months of mostly silence, or if she's simply wanting to catch up with acquaintances now that they're legally able to. Either way, he only has one response for it; if there came a day where he didn't jump at an opportunity to see her, he thinks it will be an indication that he's lost his mind.

_ Does Friday afternoon work for you? Around 3? _

He doesn't want to seem too eager, because the impulsive part of him wants to ask her if they can see each other tomorrow, and every day after, but that would be insane. There's also the very rational part of him that really needs time to consider his reactions in case there's an underlying purpose for this meeting. But as level headed and calm as he tries to be about this, he can't help but fear the worst.

_ What if she was breaking the contract and leaving the show? _

The fact that their working relationship has an expiration date is not news to him, but prior to this past season, he could have said with confidence that they would maintain a friendship long after the show had concluded. He's accepted that the opposite is closer to reality, but he's not ready to let things go yet, not now, when the only thing he has to look forward to at the end of these months of darkness is spending time with her, even if they're nothing but co-workers.

Before he has a chance to spiral any further, his phone buzzes again, the sound of her laughter filling the air. He reads the message, drops his phone onto the covers and buries his face back against his pillows.

_ I’ll see you then. _


End file.
